[5] At Shaffhausen.

Part III. opens with the following metaphorical gem:—­

  The show’r is past—­the heath-bell, at our feet,
  Looks up, as with a smile, though the cold dew
  Hangs yet within its cup, like Pity’s tear
  Upon the eye-lids of a village-child!

This is succeeded by a poetic panorama of views from the Severn to Bristol, introducing a solitary ship at sea—­and the “solitary sand:”—­

    No sound was heard,
  Save of the sea-gull warping on the wind,
  Or of the surge that broke along the shore,
  Sad as the seas.

A picture of Bristol is succeeded by some scenes of great picturesque beauty—­as Wrington, the birth-place of the immortal Locke; Blagdon, the rural rectory of

  Langhorne, a pastor and a poet too;

and Barley-Wood, the seat of Mrs. Hannah More.  Mr. Bowles also tells us that the music of “Auld Robin Gray” was composed by Mr. Leaver, rector of Wrington; and then adds a complimentary ballad to Miss Stephens on the above air—­

  Sung by a maiden of the South, whose look—­
  (Although her song be sweet)—­whose look, whose life,
  Is sweeter than her song.

The last Part (IV.) contains some exquisite Sonnets, and the poem concludes with a “Vision of the Deluge,” and the ascent of the Dove of the ark—­in which are many sublime touches of the mastery of poetry.  There are nearly forty pages of Notes, for whose “lightness” and garrulity Mr. Bowles apologizes.

Altogether, we have been much gratified with the present work.  It contains poetry after our own heart—­the poetry of nature and of truth—­abounding with tasteful and fervid imagery, but never drawing too freely on the stores of fancy for embellishment.  We could detach many passages that have charmed and fascinated us in out reading; but one must suffice for an epigrammatic exit:—­

  _—­Hope’s still light beyond the storms of Time._

* * * * *

SCENERY OF THE OHIO.

The heart must indeed be cold that would not glow among scenes like these.  Rightly did the French call this stream La Belle Riviere, (the beautiful river.) The sprightly Canadian, plying his oar in cadence with the wild notes of the boat-song, could not fail to find his heart enlivened by the beautiful symmetry of the Ohio.  Its current is always graceful, and its shores every where romantic.  Every thing here is on a large scale.  The eye of the traveller is continually regaled with magnificent scenes.  Here are no pigmy mounds dignified with the name of mountains, no rivulets swelled into rivers.  Nature has worked with a rapid but masterly hand; every touch is bold, and the whole is grand as well as beautiful; while room is left for art to embellish and fertilize that which nature has created with a thousand capabilities.  There is much sameness in the character of the scenery; but that sameness is in itself delightful, as it consists